Each and all, we are riding into the dark. Even living, we cannot remember half the events of our own days.

Some degree of withdrawal serves to nurture man's creative powers. The artist and the scientist bring out of the dark void, like the mysterious universe itself, the unique, the strange, the unexpected. Numerous observers have testified upon the loneliness of the process.

Many of us who walk to and fro upon our usual tasks are prisoners drawing mental maps of escape.

You think that way as you begin to get grayer and you see pretty plainly that the game is not going to end as you planned.

Perhaps a creature of so much ingenuity and deep memory is almost bound to grow alienated from his world, his fellows, and the objects around him. He suffers from a nostalgia for which there is no remedy upon earth except as it is to be found in the enlightenment of the spirit--some ability to have a perceptive rather than an exploitive relationship with his fellow creatures.

It is a commonplace of all religious thought, even the most primitive, that the man seeking visions and insight must go apart from his fellows and love for a time in the wilderness.

Every man contains within himself a ghost continent.